Crocs, Kisses and Tan Lines: How the French Do Triathlon

There are some things in the culture of triathlon that are the same the world over, like men with waxed legs, crocs as acceptable footwear for all occasions (yes, even in France), and an unrelenting obsession with gear. The latter has always been something I've refrained from: transitioning from the au natural world of ultrarunning, I've always considered myself to be an athlete with more old-fashioned values, such as listening to one's body to determine intensity level. I've even been known to train and race without a watch (one of my best ultra performances, when I placed second at Stormy Trail 64K, came when I stopped my watch and ran for fun in the last twenty kilometers). I've also run all but one of my five marathons with a negative split by using good ol' fashioned judgment of my exertion levels. But I do hold a BSc in Sport Science and I do know the value of turning to lab data from time to time, so I've caved in and have started to wear a heart rate monitor during training. I'm finding it useful since my cardio response to training in the heat is a little foreign to me. I've had various other measuring devices donated to me by (male) members of the club whose jaws dropped when they saw I had no beeping gadgets on my bike or body during training. I'm not even going to attempt to convey my philosophies on this in French, so I am making out like a grateful gift recipient with a lot of enthusistic 'merci merci!'s.

And then there are some are some other little idiosyncrasies in the triathlon culture that differ between countries. For example, here in the south of France, the two-cheek kiss (always commencing with the right side) is the standard greeting between friends and acquaintances. The French are very particular about their manners (I love how kids respectfully call me Madam when they interact with me; makes me feel so grown up), and this means that the two-cheek kiss is delivered no matter what inconveniences are in the way: you get out of your chair, you lean across tables, you crane out of a car window, you do whatever it takes to deliver those kisses. This leads to the most interesting scene at 8am on Sunday mornings in the pool's parking lot, when the tri club meets for the weekly long ride. The fact that everyone is arriving on their bikes is no reason to push manners aside, so an entanglement of athletes and bikes ensues as everyone ensures they have not missed anyone. I'm doing my best to assimilate but can't help but be extremely anxious about getting my spokes in somebody's wheel.

Another little idiosyncrasy from the world of French triathlon: topless swim training. I'm not kidding. The first time I was swimming in Narbonne's outdoor Olympic pool and noticed I was sharing a lane with a half-clad woman, I thought it was an exception. It's not. In the outdoor pool, the women take off the top half of their sport bikinis after they get in the water and proceed to train comme ça. There are no showy ostentatious displays of walking around topless at the poolside; there is just the very practical prevailing philosophy that upper-body tan lines can be avoided if due care is taken, so tops come off in the water. So at the end of each swim lane, you will see the usual collection of water bottles, fins, paddles, kick boards - and some scattered bikini tops. It should be noted that during our coached swim sessions, tops do not come off; it seems to be acceptable behavior during personal swim times only. I asked Arnold why this is and he says he pays no attention to these matters; when he's swim training, he's swim training. I asked if that was similar to the philosophy of not looking at the views in the vineyards from the bike, and he said no, it's a French thing and I wouldn't understand.

Personally, I have to confess I've been toying with the idea, just slightly. My back is a mess of criss-crossing tan lines from different swim suits and sports tops; but I don't think I've quite assimilated into French culture to that degree. Plus, I'm not sure what to do in the instance of meeting an acquaintance in the pool and how to handle the two-cheek kiss greeting when in that state. Yes, I still have some assimilating to do; I'll continue to watch and learn.